


Belle of the Ball

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Category: Hamish MacBeth (TV), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, spoilers for Hamish Macbeth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle was a troubled youth, neglected by her father and tossed about by Social Services. Now, she's making a new home in Lochdubh with the local Police Constable as her guardian. </p><p>Police Constable Hamish has lost so much, his best friend, then his wife and child. He was not prepared for 17 year old Belle to turn his provincial life upside down. </p><p>Sexual tension and smuttiness ensue as Belle and Hamish navigate the messy path between attraction and genuine affection.</p><p>No FTL back story. Underage! Kink (but over the age of consent)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rated PG-13 or R until Chapter 5.

When Belle arrived at the dance, it was far less crowded than she had anticipated. She nervously smoothed the satin skirt of her dress. It was time to remember why she’d come. She could be one of them, just for tonight. She knew she was pretty enough, all dolled up in makeup she had nicked years ago. Esme had picked a right pretty dress for her, too. The dark blue brought out her eyes and the cut flattered her slim figure. She wasn’t afraid of not looking the part.

What had her palms sweating and her jaw clenching was the thought of really putting her plan into action. She’d been the fish out of water since day one. The odd girl out, who hadn’t grown up in their small town. The juvenile delinquent that their parents warned them against. The pathetic orphan who was rejected and abused by her last living relative and took refuge at the police station. No one seemed to know what to make of her.

When she first came to town, adults looked down their noses at her, as Aunt Effie made certain everyone knew all about her past crimes. The kids her own age had expected her to smoke hand-rolled cigarettes and start bar fights, or something like that. They were genuinely surprised – and disappointed – when she merely smiled shyly and finished her homework assignments on time.

Tonight was time to prove them all wrong – to show everyone that she was not a victim or a criminal. She would walk in with her head held high and she would dance and smile… and maybe even drink some spiked punch. It was the beginning of her last year at school. In less than a year, she would turn 18 and leave for University. Then the real adventure would begin. Before she did, these small minded townsfolk were going to know that they were way off-base.

She wasn’t an oddity. She wasn’t a spectacle, despite the dramatic events of her recent years. She was just Belle and that was good enough. It was more than good enough. It was exactly who she ought to be.

She repeated that last thought like a mantra, entering the auditorium with her well-coifed head held high. She scanned the room for a few familiar faces. One face, in particular leapt out almost immediately.

_No._

_No, he could NOT be here._

_That bastard._

Hamish flashed a lopsided grin when she caught his eye. She glared back. His expression wavered into confusion and she snapped her gaze away.

Fine. If he wanted to play it that way, Belle was game. She strode confidently to a table where a few of the boys and girls from the math club sat. They weren’t friends, but they had always been civil to her. She’d encountered them many times in the library. A few of them had coupled up or brought dates, but Jimmy and Frankie were unattended. Frankie, ever a gentleman, offered her a seat between them.

They chatted pleasantly about the crap decorations and the pleasant snacks that Rory had provided. Belle felt Hamish’s eyes on her the entire time, of course. She would not give him the satisfaction of flinching. If he didn’t want her to go to this dance, he should have bloody well said so in the first place.

It reminded her of the night he took her to the Stag Bar for the final round of the darts championship. He had never fully explained his anger, that night. Something tickled at the back of her mind and she found herself losing sight of Frankie’s views on modern choir pieces and drifting back to the Stag Bar, nearly a month past…

***

She had been engrossed in a conversation with Doc Brown and Frankie’s step-father, Lachlan McCrae (a strangely cheerful man, for an undertaker), when Hamish had enclosed her arm with a grip like a vice.

“I think it’s about time we were on our way.” He’d all but growled into her ear, wafting a sour whiskey smell that made her wrinkle her nose.

She began to protest, but the heat in his eyes brooked no argument. “I suppose we’ll be walking home, seeing as how you’ve nearly drained Barney’s whiskey supply dry…” She kept her voice low to spare him the embarrassment of being chided by his teenage ward.

He looked at her curiously for a moment but merely nodded and pulled her to her feet.

Lachlan had wished her a fond farewell and promise to give her regards to Frankie and Mrs. McCrae. Doc Brown had extended his arms for a hug, but Hamish pulled her away before she could return the embrace.

Belle had been allowed a few drinks, when Agnes’s back was turned, but she’d kept her head. She was very glad of that as they walked back to the police station. Hamish stumbled slightly but set a brisk pace. She jogged along to keep up with his longer legs.

“Do you mind telling me exactly why we needed to leave just then? Are you ok? I mean, are you ill?”

Hamish shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “No. I’m fine.”

“Did you lose money on the darts game?”

“A little.” He walked even faster and Belle nearly tripped over her own feet in trying to keep up.

“Is that why you drank so much tonight?” He was usually more talkative than this, especially with a few drinks in him.

“I shouldnae brought you out here, tonight. Or ever. Not sure what I was thinking.” It was more of a mumble than anything, but Belle heard him, clear as day.

She stopped in her tracks, face flaming. “Did I embarrass you that much? I… I thought I got on rather well with your friends…” She studied her feet, biting her lip. She heard him stop walking.

“Oh, aye. Very well. Next thing, I suppose Doc Brown will be coming around with flowers and chocolates for you.”

Belle looked up, aghast. “Doc Brown? What….? Why on earth…?” She sputtered fruitlessly, fighting down the rising tide of anger at his ridiculous accusations.

“Don’t be naïve. You’ve enough sense to know when you’ve piqued a man’s interest.” He scoffed and turned back to continue walking.

She scrambled to catch up with him and planted herself in his path. “Are you seriously suggesting I was flirting with the Doc? “

His eyes widened. “No! I’m saying he was flirting with you, or hadn’t you noticed?”

She rolled her eyes. “He knows full well I’m 17 and that I’m not interested. It’s not my fault if he’s a flirt!”

“I know that!” Hamish snapped.

“Then why are you yelling at me?”

“I’m not yelling at you!” Hamish yelled.

Belle raised an eyebrow. Suddenly looking sheepish, Hamish dropped his head.

“Oh, right.” He chuckled balefully.

“Right.” Belle agreed, deciding to see the humor is his drunken misunderstanding, and relaxed into a friendly smirk.

“You’re too smart for your own good, Belle. You know that, right?”

She shrugged “I suppose one of us has to be the responsible one.”

“You won’t tell the social worker that I took you to a bar and got pished and yelled at you, will you?” He looked concerned, despite his light-hearted tone and Belle instantly forgave him – not that she would tell him so just then.

She looped one arm through his and pulled him in close. “What and have to re-locate again? Leave Lochdubh and all… this?” She made a sweeping gesture with her other arm, encompassing the dimly lit streets. “Not on your life, Constable. Now let’s get you home and ready for that hangover, eh?”

“Now, now don’t think that you can mother me just because I’ve had a nip or two –“

She scoffed at the understatement and he pretended to look stern but the whiskey had sapped his conviction. His gaze was pure affection, even in the low light. Belle felt like her bones would turn to water. His kindness since her first day in town and the sheer generosity of allowing her to remain at the station while she sought full emancipation had warmed her to him immensely. At moments like these, however, she didn’t feel simply warmth. She burned from within.

She tried not to meet his eyes again as they walked on in amiable silence. She was ashamed of the feelings she harbored for him. It was so cliché – the orphan girl falling for the father-figure in her life. He was kind and protective and he did care for her, enough to even give up his bedroom for the last few months. He slept in the holding cell (a fact for which she felt terribly guilty) and would not hear of switching places. That signified nothing, in the end, though. She knew that. She had to recognize that their age difference and respective social statuses were impediment enough, and surely Hamish, himself, would object to her injecting herself any more into his life. He would dismiss her school girl crush as hero-worship and folly. Perhaps it was silly of her, after all. It did not stop her from curling into his sheets every night and wishing that he would share them with her. It did not stop her heart from nearly pounding out of her chest when he allowed their arms to remain entwined the whole way home.  


	2. Chapter 2

Frankie was still talking, something about Gaelic and rock music. She flushed a little when she realized she had been ignoring him completely.

“So what do you think?” He asked earnestly.

“Oh, I… well, I’m afraid I don’t know much about music.” She supplied, lamely. Frankie’s face fell a bit but he was trying not to show it. “Hey, um, do you want to dance?”

Frankie nodded. “Sure!” He stood and offered his hand.

That feeling of being watched followed her onto the dance floor and as Frankie turned her, she ventured a glance. Sure enough, Hamish’s gaze was steadfast but his face was unreadable. When he saw her looking, he turned slightly and made a remark to the blonde woman next to him. Belle vaguely recognized the woman as a teacher at the Primary school. The woman smiled and nodded as Hamish led her gently to the dance floor.  
  
Belle bit her lip and looked away. It wouldn’t do to act a fool when she was trying so desperately to make her mark. He probably had no idea how it affected her to see him wrap his arms around another woman. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, tonight. He should have been back at the station while she moved on and lived her life. Belle French needed an identity outside of her involvement with local police and social workers. She felt overwhelmed by the things she couldn’t be and shut her eyes against the faces of the other students and faculty. She wanted to run away again. She wanted to forget Hamish’s kind brown eyes and Aunt Effie’s shrill tones. She felt trapped by circumstance in a life that was not meant to be lived this way.

She realized belatedly that she was moving stiffly in Frankie’s arms, as he stopped dancing and looked down at her. “Are you feeling alright, Belle?”

She took a deep breath, swallowing her disquieting remembrance and uneasy thoughts. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, Frankie. This is actually the first dance I’ve ever gotten to attend and… I suppose I’m a bit distracted. There’s a lot to take in.” She ventured a smile.

“Would you like to sit back down?”

“I, er. I think I’m just going to step out for a quick moment, alright?” 

“Sure, Belle.” He released her and shuffled his foot, “Um, do you mind if I dance with a few other girls?”

“Oh! Of course not, Frankie. We didn’t come here together. I won’t be offended.”

“Ok, thanks, then. Hope you enjoy your first school dance!” He smiled sweetly and gave a small bow before leaving her.

Belle wandered out into the hallway, her feet beating a familiar path to the library. Luckily the heavy door was unlocked. She felt her tension start to melt away as she breathed in the familiar scent of dust and paper.

She shook her head at herself. Not even an hour at the dance and here was she retreating to her hideout. Still, the solitary silence felt like an embrace over the noisy auditorium with its garish banners. She pulled down a favorite tome and settled into a chair. The words bled together on the page, each painting unwanted portraits of the very memories she had hoped to cast aside.

***

Belle French was only 12 the first time she had run away. Her father, Moe, was still running a business, back then. They were still living in Australia and her mother had just died, after a long battle with cancer. She was gone for two days. Moe didn’t notice. Admittedly, she was merely camping in the local park, two blocks from home. No one came looking. No flyers were posted.

When she came home, her father looked up from a photo album, his eyes red and glassy. He told her she ought to be in bed. She wanted to be angry with him. She wanted to scream and cry and throw a temper tantrum. She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t even known she was gone.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around his bulky shoulders and went obediently to her bedroom. Some part of her realized then that she was on her own. Moe French had died right alongside his wife. He just hadn’t been buried yet.

So much of the capital from the business went to hospital bills that Moe decided to sell it and the house. They used what little remained to move to England, where Moe had invested in another small business, years ago. Belle found herself learning the streets of Manchester, surrounded by unfamiliar sights and sounds. It was not frightening, but rather a welcome distraction from her grief.

Belle excelled at school, but she suffered from an almost insatiable boredom. Until her mother’s cancer had gotten too bad for it, she had been home-schooled. Her own knowledge and intense love of books had put her leaps and bounds ahead of her classmates. Every report home said the same thing:  _For such an intelligent girl, she doesn’t have much of an attention span; her test grades and homework are immaculate, if only she would stop daydreaming in class, etc., etc., etc._  Moe never read them, anyway. Belle was an expert at faking her father’s signature.

She started with little things, like pilfering the teacher’s pen when she wasn’t looking. She snickered to herself as the haughty, self-righteous woman searched high and low, in vain. The best part was returning the pen to its original resting place, unnoticed. The look on Mrs. Halliworth’s face had been well worth the effort.

It escalated quickly. Belle’s nimble little fingers quickly figured out how to dismantle a security tag. She might not even wear the item before sneaking it back into the store. Makeup she kept, for sanitary purposes and food she couldn’t return, of course. Everything else was just a game of wits against Loss Prevention. She began to think of herself as the Thomas Crown of her local shops.

Then came the day when someone noticed. She couldn’t talk her way out of it. She couldn’t return the items and promise never to do it again. They had been watching her. They had video footage of several weeks’ worth of thefts. Her argument that she had not kept the items did not impress the Regal Corporation. They threatened to sue her father for damages.

Moe came out of his stupor long enough to tell her how disappointed he was in the little sneak-thief she had become. Everything was settled, eventually, and her sentence was lighter than the Regal Corporation would have liked.

Home with her father felt even more like a prison, now. His disapproval hung heavily between them. He became a ghost, always just in her peripheral. She ran away two more times, this time for several days and then a week. The police found her and brought her back both times, but Moe hardly spoke a word. She felt like an empty shell.

One Fall evening, Moe didn’t come home at all. He had been keeping pretty regular hours. When his key had still not turned in the lock by midnight, she felt a chill pass straight into her heart. She knew. Before the knock at the door and the police escort to the hospital, she knew.

It was a car accident. There was nothing the doctors could do. Everyone was talking at once and Belle let the noise cascade over her. She wanted to feel something. She wanted to feel nothing. She was 14 and alone in the world, in a town that was not her own.

The social worker, Mrs. Norris, had a pleasant face. She was plump and Scottish and wore a lot of yellow. Belle liked the way her voice rolled over the paperwork, washing each word ashore and letting it drift back into the depths. She would always remember the way Mrs. Norris’s fluorescent nails clicked against the keys of her computer. The first foster home was only meant to be temporary. Belle was glad of that. They were also fostering a baby who cried nearly every hour of the night. Belle had run off after the first week.

Mrs. Norris was disappointed, but she didn’t lecture the way that teachers often did. She tilted her head to the side and smiled a sad little smile. Belle would have liked Mrs. Norris, if she liked anyone, in those days.

There was a series of other foster homes after that. She could break out easily but found she had lost some of her taste for running. Finally, she stayed put, resolved to do her best to reform. There were three other children in that last home – one biological and 2 other fostered. Benji was a sweet boy of 6 with coffee colored skin and hazel eyes. Elsa was 10, fair and blonde. The biological daughter of Belle’s foster parents was 13. Her name was Maris and she never smiled with her eyes. Belle did not like Maris, but the younger girl always greeted her with sunshine and sugary sweetness. Belle convinced herself that she had read the other girl incorrectly. They became friendly. Maris would play with Belle’s hair and ask wide eyed questions about Australia and how Belle had come to live in so many places at such a young age.

When the police came to the house on an anonymous tip, Belle’s confusion could not have been greater. Or so she thought, until they unearthed hundreds of dollars’ worth of stolen merchandise from under her mattress. Belle had never seen any of it before, but from the satisfaction on Maris’s face, she was quite sure she knew how it had gotten there. Benji cried as they led Belle away. Elsa promised to write. Maris gave one last syrupy smile and wished her luck.

The police gently warned Belle that she would be old enough to try as an adult very soon. Her stomach turned. She did not cry.

Luckily, by the time Belle was in need of a new home, Mrs. Norris had come through. Moe’s great-aunt was still alive in a little Scottish town called Lochdubh. Effie Melville was nearly 70 but had expressed an interest in Belle’s well-being.

So, she had been shipped off, once more to a new location. In retrospect, part of Belle wished she had run away from Mrs. Norris’s office that day and just kept going. Yet, if she had never suffered through her time with Effie, she would never have gotten so close to Hamish. As much pain as her feelings for him caused her, she could not bring herself to regret the connection.

*** 

Someone behind her cleared their throat and Belle’s head shot up from where it had come to rest over her hands.  _Job already well done, French_ , she thought wryly.  _Everyone is certain to respect the bookworm found weeping in the library_ … She swiped at her eyes, trying to be careful of her mascara.

“Belle…”

The familiar voice of her legal guardian would usually have put her at ease. Irritated as she was by his presence at the dance, all she felt was a prickling blush creep across her cheeks. It was enough to hold back the sorrow, though. For that, she was grateful.

She stood and turned to face him. “Why are you here, Hamish?”

“You went missing, I thought the library seemed the most obvious – “

“Not in the library. Why are you at my school dance?”

His eyes slid away from hers and he shrugged a little too casually. “Ach, well they needed volunteers to chaperone and I didn’t have any plans, so…” He trailed off, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket. He did look quite handsome in a suit. It was a nice change from the uniform, and she could picture herself finding several creative uses for that tie. She should not be thinking about that!

She bit her lip. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Slipped my mind.” He still wasn’t meeting her eyes.

She put her hands on her hips and approached him slowly. “Really? Just like that? You just happen to chaperone at the dance that you weren’t too keen on me attending in the first place?”

He finally glanced up, his dark eyes flashing. “It not up to you how I spend my free time, though, is it?” He squared his shoulders and took a step toward her. “I’m still the one in charge ‘round here. And I did let you go to this… carnival of hormones after all, didn’t I? I signed the paper and all.”

She rolled her eyes. “Carnival of hormones? Really?”

“Would you prefer Libidos on Parade?” Always hiding behind humor, that was Hamish.

She was less than a foot away now; her heels making her nearly eye level with him. “I go to school with these  _libidinous_  boys every day. If any of them were a danger, don’t you think I’d know it by now? And what’s wrong with all the other chaperones Esme picked?  Don’t trust them, either?” She closed the distance between them, purposely entering his personal space. “Or is it that you just don’t trust  _me_?”

He scoffed but leaned down, so close she could feel his breath across her face. “I never said that, Belle. Don’t twist my words. You know perfectly well what those boys think when they see you girls all trussed up. Like a gift-fucking-wrapped wet dream.”

She trembled, unsure if she wanted to kiss him or slap him. His gaze flicked to her mouth and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. He refocused on her eyes and her knees felt weak. Her voice, when she found it again, was low and just a little husky. “You can’t nanny goat me everywhere I go, Hamish. I’m off to University next year. Will you follow me there to fend off unwanted advances?”

His tongue darted out briefly to moisten his lips, but he said nothing. They stood in a heated silence for several minutes, so close Belle yearned to bridge the gap and crush her body to his. She resisted. Slowly, the corners of his mouth curled downward into a grimace. “Right. Fine. Live your life. I’m just here to provide shelter until you’re on your own, eh? I suppose I’ve no right to care about your safety at all.” He backed away quickly and leaned against the wall, scowling at the floor.

She threw her hands in front of her in a gesture of exasperation. _Infuriating man!_  “Now who is twisting words?” She shook her head and stalked to the door. “If you’re going to sulk over my rejection of a full time bodyguard, then suit yourself. I will be going back to the dance. I may even go out with some of the other students, after! Like any other girl does when she is in school!”

He started, looking for all the world as though she had carried out that contemplated slap. “I didn’t think you were just like any other girl.” He muttered.

Choking back an emotion she couldn’t quite name, she glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t wait up, P.C. Macbeth.”


	3. Chapter 3

After they’d lost the baby, Hamish and Isobel had tried to make it work. She had wanted to talk about it. He didn’t.  In the end, his stubbornness won out. She went back to working as a reporter, commuting long hours and he kept the house mostly in order for her. The more things changed in a town like Lochdubh, the more they stayed the same. He found himself alone in the station for longer and longer stretches of time. No TV John to keep him company. Isobel was always away. She started staying in the city overnight. She would get a hotel or stay with friends. Sometime he wouldn’t see her until the weekend.

There were nights when he would notice that she had been crying, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. He wanted to ask her how he could make it better. He wanted to fix it, but he could never find the right words. He held her close in their shared bed, but he still felt her slipping away.

 

He wasn’t terribly shocked when she told him she had gotten a flat in Edinburgh. She moved out quietly. They faced one another in silence, falling back into it like a bad habit. He kissed her goodbye and she didn’t push him away. That small victory was cold comfort.

There had been very little break from his regular routine for several years. Competitions raged with Dunbracken, the occasional ghost made a brief but memorable appearance. One day, a spinster who lived on the edge of town, Effie Melville, announced that her delinquent great-niece was coming to take up residence. Hamish met with the social worker to help process the paperwork. Ms. Melville made an announcement at the town meeting that the girl coming to live with her was reportedly a troubled soul. Effie, out of the kindness of her heart, hoped to redeem the child, to bring her out of her life of sin.

This incident was only of note since Effie rarely ever came to Town Hall meetings at all. She also interrupted an entirely different topic to make her point. She addressed Hamish directly, telling him to keep a sharp eye out for her felonious little niece. He thanked her politely for her obviously vital announcement and offered to escort her home. She informed him that she did not care for him and his exceedingly liberal treatment of the petty crooks in their town and that she would rather see herself safely home,  _thank you_.

When Belle arrived, Hamish felt sorry for her, immediately. He tried to show her as much kindness as he could – while still keeping her criminal record in mind. School had just ended for the summer, so there wasn’t much for her to do around town. Esme leant a hand in acclimatizing the girl, but it was an uphill battle. Parents did not wish their children to associate with the young girl, despite her gentle and earnest countenance. Belle seemed to take it all in stride, her narrow chin jutting forward and her blue eyes bright.

Belle immediately took a shine to the library and it was a rare day that Hamish did not find her walking past the station with several books in her hands. She was reserved in her dealings with most of the town, but when he asked her about her books, her eyes lit up and she gestured emphatically. He enjoyed seeing that rare, sparkling side of her.  He would often delay her for a chat, sometimes even inviting her in for tea. There was a vulnerability to her that he found endearing.  And it certainly did not hurt that she was exceedingly easy on the eyes. Not that he would entertain such thoughts about a girl less than half his age.

It was during one of these chats that he first noticed the bruises. She had been keeping them well hidden, but when she reached over to pet Jock, he saw the bluish purple tinges just under the hem of her knee-length skirt.

“Have you had an accident, then, Belle?” He asked.

“An accident? No… I… oh, yes, I, um I did fall in the library recently. I was trying to reach a higher shelf and slipped. Silly of me, really.” A crimson color was creeping into her cheeks and she would not meet his eyes. She changed the subject back to J.D. Salinger.

He had let it go at the time, not wanting to accuse her of lying to him.

A week later, fresh bruises had bloomed on her knees and elbows. He could not ignore them. They stared him in the face, boldly derisive reminders of his neglect to do his duty and protect the innocent.

He gripped her arm gently and ran his fingertips over the discolored elbow. “Another accident?”

She pursed her lips and looked away. “I’m clumsy.”

“That I don’t doubt. You’ve broken two of my plates and walked into a filing cabinet in the past month.” He tried to keep his tone neutral. “But I find it… curious that these bruises don’t seem to fade. In fact, they look a far sight worse than the last time.”

“I heal slowly.” She grit out from between her teeth, pulling her slender arm from his grasp.

“Belle. Please look at me.” When she did not, he placed a hand under her chin and lightly lifted it. She was so mind-numbingly beautiful this close that he almost forgot himself. He struggled to find the right way to ask her the question that needed to be asked. “Has someone hurt you?”  _If they have, I’ll kill them_ , he thought menacingly. For just this moment, it did not occur to him to question why he felt so fiercely protective of this young girl he had known scarcely two months.

Her eyes filled and she squeezed them shut, shaking her head. “It’s not that bad, Hamish. I’m not hurt, not really.” Her eyes reopened and searched his fervently. “It’s just a year. I can make it a year. I don’t want to move again. I’m so tired of running. Please, just let me stay in one place, just for a little while?”

Instinctively, he pulled her into his arms. He could feel her heart fluttering against his chest. He rested his head against her soft curls and breathed her in. “Belle, no one should ever hurt you. I can’t allow it.”

She gave a doleful, watery chuckle. “You’re a bit late for that.”

He flinched at the reminder of her past, some of which she had shared in bits and pieces. “Let me protect you.” He was grasping at straws now. “It’s… it’s what I do. Serve. Protect. And the like. Let me, alright?”

She pulled back to look up at him. “But where will I go? No one else wanted to take me in and… I don’t want to go back to the city.” Her mouth twisted with misery and he fought the urge to kiss her furrowed brow. It wasn’t his place to put his lips on her.

“I’ll talk to your social worker. There has to be something we can do to keep you in town but out of harm’s way. Hell, you can stay in my custody. I’ve got enough room at the station, really.” He felt the words fly out of his mouth without really registering their meaning.

Her face lit up. “Do you really mean that? I mean, it would only be until I turn 18. I’d get a job and save up for my own place and I wouldn’t bother you at all. I… I don’t take up much space.”

His stomach flipped at the smile she offered him and he found himself readily agreeing to call Mrs. Norris in the morning.

Belle haltingly confessed that Great Aunt Effie had forced her to pray on a kneeler for nearly 6 hours at a time. It was intended as penance for her “sins”. Effie would stand over her with a bible and allow neither food nor sleep until each 6 hour cycle was completed. Belle’s legs and arms would go numb and stiff. Her voice would wear out and Effie would not allow her to take a break even to use the restroom.

Hamish was horrified and contacted authorities at Inverness, as well as Mrs. Norris. Effie Melville was arrested for child abuse and neglect. She had to be dragged to the station car, screeching in Latin all the while.

Belle settled in at the station and Hamish took up residence in the holding cell until they could sort out better accommodations.

*** 

The dance was alright. It wasn’t the groundbreaking “coming out” Belle had imagined. After the dust kicked up by her arrival and Effie’s subsequent arrest had settled, town gossips had moved on. The students who had been kind to her remained kind. The students who had ignored her continued to nonchalantly do so.

What she had been telling herself was bravery felt like a foolhardy show to prove a point that no one had noticed but herself. Fighting with Hamish had left a bad taste in her mouth and now she felt petty and insecure. Her parting shot and the resulting hurt on his face followed her like her own personal storm cloud.

She glanced around several times throughout the night, hoping to catch Hamish’s eye and apologize. He was nowhere to be seen. She reasoned that he may have volunteered himself as a chaperone rather than been asked. Esme would have accepted his help out of courtesy, even if his services were not needed.

Rory had brought their toddler to visit Mummy at work and Esme was cooing over the redhaired boy as Belle approached.

“Hey, I don’t suppose you know where Hamish has gone?”

Esme and Rory exchanged looks as she handed the child to her husband. “He went home, dear. Said he was feeling under the weather. I thought he’d told you.”

Belle blushed. “Um no. He probably didn’t want to ruin my good time.”

Esme laid a hand on her shoulder. “Are you having a good time, then?”

Belle wanted to lie, if only to spare Esme’s feelings as the organizer, but she shook her head dumbly, instead. “It’s all quite lovely and I really do adore this dress, but… I don’t think this is me. I wanted to prove to them that I could be just as good as any girl in town, but I think I’ve just proven the opposite to myself.” She smiled forlornly at her shimmering skirt.

Esme tilted her head to the side. “Belle, just because you’re different doesn’t mean you’re less than anyone else. You’re a bright girl. All your teachers tell me they expect great things from you. Do you think it really matters if you don’t want to spend the night swanning about to pop music and getting groped by boys?”

That produced a laugh from Belle and she shyly met the older woman’s gaze. “No, I’ve just spent so much time as an outsider, I just… I wanted to know what it’s like to be on the inside, for once.”

 “Belle, I grew up here. I’ve lived in Lochdubh my whole life and I love my little provincial town. It’s peaceful and familiar. I love my family and my friends. But if I had it to do all over again? I’d go out and see the world first. You’ll put down roots eventually, my girl, I promise you that. But don’t try and force it. Home is where _you_  want to be the most.”

As Esme spoke, Belle knew one thing for certain. As much as she dreamed of adventure, herself, she did want to have a home. That home, at least for now, was wherever Hamish was. His possessively protective streak riled her but it also spoke of his own attachment to her. That thought hiding at the back of her mind resurfaced.

_All the blushes and stammers._

_All the times he had brushed her hair off her face._

_The time he had fallen over his own feet when she suggested he share the bed with her._

Perhaps his feelings were not so fatherly, after all…

Bidding Esme, Rory, and the baby a quick goodnight, Belle rushed out of the auditorium. To hell with dressing herself up to try and win over the un-obliging student body. She had made some good friends, after all, among the adults and that was plenty. She had been independent this long and she knew her own mind at last. She was young and she was in love. Now it was time to go and get her man to admit that he felt the same. 


	4. Chapter 4

Hamish did not get pished all the time. In fact, he had only done so a few times after Isobel left. He was rather proud that he had not crawled into a bottle to fight that particular upset. Thinking of her, now, maudlin as he was, produced only a faint twinge. It had been so many years. She had moved on, remarried. He had dated a bit but never gotten serious.

That was him all over, though, wasn’t it? Never getting serious. He hated dealing with anything too deep. Small crimes around town, even the occasional murder – those he could handle just fine. Ask him to say those three little words…. And fucked if he wasn’t a blithering fool. Isobel had been the first to get him to say it. She may have been the first to really get him to mean it. Yet, even that had not been enough.

He could keep the town safe and on the up and up but he couldn’t keep a woman happy. With Alex, he realized he had been chasing her for so long, that by the time he got her, he didn’t really want her anymore. With Isobel, well, she’d needed so much more from him. She had known he was more apt to action than words, but nothing he did ever seemed to be able to make it alright for her.  
  
And now there was Belle. What a pathetic mess he was, falling for a 17 year old girl. Just as with the others, he tried to do right but said all the wrong things. He had allowed his petty jealousy to take the lead and probably pushed her into the arms of some strapping young school boy. He blanched at the thought. Of course it was more appropriate for her to be with a 17 year old boy, but there weren’t enough headlights in the world for him to smash if she had left the dance with one of them.

Afraid of what he might do if he observed such a thing, he had gone home and nursed a bottle of whiskey. It reminded him of that night when he had taken her to the Stag Bar – Foolish man!

She’d had a good time, effervescent with laughter and (he suspected) just a wee bit of the wine that he had pretended not to notice being slipped into her hand. Not wanting to hover over her, he had made the rounds, talking and drinking with old friends. He left Belle in the care of Lachie Jr, a man he trusted, possibly more than himself, to do the honorable thing. He had returned to find Doc Brown cozying up to his Belle.

 _When had he come to think of her as his?_  He couldn’t remember anymore, (but he knew that he would happily be hers if she’d ever even say the word).

It was wrong of him to think of her so, but seeing Brown with his hand around her waist had lit a fuse. He would not be satisfied until there were yards of street a few brick walls between Belle and the good Doctor.

Luckily, ever patient and forgiving, Belle had laughed off his tantrum. She blamed the drink. He almost wished he had thought to chaperone the dance while drunk, so as to have a convenient excuse for fighting with her in the library. He dropped his head into his hands. Belle’s sweet smiles and cerulean eyes lingered behind his eyelids, teasing reminders of what he couldn’t have… shouldn’t touch. He swore under his breath and took another drink.

The key turning in the lock broke the spell of his self-pity. Belle slipped through the door, delectable in her fitted satin gown. His eyes had nearly bulged out of his head when he’d first seen her at the dance. Even now, his fingers itched to trace the contours of her body. He wondered if her bare skin would be even softer than the satin; he bet that it would be. He realized too late that he was staring and when she caught his eye, his mouth went dry.

She tilted her head to the side and approached the sofa. “Evening, Hamish.”

He nodded. “Belle.”

Her eyes took in the half empty bottle and the glass on the table. She perched on the arm of the sofa, so as not to dislodge Jock, who napped on the cushion beside him. He swallowed a couple times, wracking his brain for something he could say to make up for his behavior. He wanted to explain or justify… or… tell her how stunning she looked in that dress. He told himself to look away, but his eyes were no longer obeying.

She sighed and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “I’m sorry about what I said, earlier.” The look of utter shock on his face took her by surprise and she laughed. “I do apologize, sometimes, you know.”

“Aye, I mean, it’s not that… I didnae think you had anything to apologize for.” He felt his face get hot. “I should have told you I’d be there.”

Her mouth quirked downward. “Hamish, you shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me… I can’t even tell you how much. But when you showed up tonight all I could think was how everyone would still see me as being so weak and useless that I needed you there to protect me. I shouldn’t care what the other kids think, I know that, but I kind of wanted to at least prove to myself that I could go it on my own.”

He blinked rapidly. “You shouldn’t have to go it on your own. I’m here.”

Belle made a melancholy sound he had never heard her make before and it wrenched his heart to think he was the cause of it. She reached out and ran a hand through his hair. He fought the urge to arch into her touch. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke again.

“You’re here now, and I love being here with you. But this isn’t forever. What happens when I leave Lochdubh?”

Hamish felt his stomach sink. She could slay him at a word. “You really are planning to leave me then, aren’t you?”

She looked taken aback and then her lips curved slowly upward into a smile. It puzzled him until he realized…  _shite, had he said that out loud_?

***

He seemed so devoted now, but Belle needed to know how deeply that went. Hamish was wedded to his hometown. He loved Lochdubh like a man in the desert loved an oasis. Belle was increasingly fond of the town’s strange inhabitants and antiquated scenery, but she had bigger plans in life. She was too curious, too inquisitive, and too god-damned _Belle_ to just settle down in a place like this.

_Maybe girls like her just didn’t get happy endings._

That thought prompted an involuntary sound of despair and Hamish looked so concerned she couldn’t suppress the impulse to sooth him. His hair was soft as she brushed the cropped layers. She could picture lying with him in his bed, caressing him just so… while he kissed her stomach and worked down to her center. She pressed her thighs together and forced herself to refocus.

“You’re here now, and I love being here with you. But this isn’t forever. What happens when I leave Lochdubh?”

She wanted to look away from the sharp pain in his gaze, but she forced herself to keep meeting his eyes. They needed to talk about this, right now. They needed to talk about the future. If he felt the way that she did, there had to be a way to make it work. If he did not, she needed a clear sign so she could let her heart heal.

“You really are planning to leave me then, aren’t you?”

Planning to leave  _me_  – not Lochdubh…  _ME_.

She hadn’t been prepared for such a blatant admission. She supposed the whiskey bottle was to thank for that. For the first time tonight, she felt like smiling.

Hamish began to stutter out something about the town being in need of a new librarian very shortly and how much Lochdubh had to offer her. He was backpedaling or stalling for time. Either way, she knew the truth, now. She bent slightly at the waist and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him to her. He stopped mid-sentence and his head came to rest, tentatively, against her breasts. He released a breathy moan and he splayed one hand on her lower back, the other just above her knee. She felt her nipples harden, as those simple gestures re-ignited her fantasy.

As though he had read her dirty mind, his head descended gently to rest in her lap and she could feel the heat of his breath right above her mons. Her head swam as desire pooled between her legs.

Belle was no blushing flower. A girl who had lived on the streets more than once had to know how to survive and sex was just part of the game. Yet, she had never felt anything like this, this deep and almost painful yearning, when a man touched her. She wanted to taste every inch of his skin and learn his unique flavor. She wanted to feel him around her and inside her more than she wanted to breathe.

Her hands began to shake and she busied them by burying them once more in his short hair. He moaned again as she scratched her nails across his scalp, returning to the base of his skull, and repeating the motion.

“Fuck, Belle.” It was such a low sound, she felt the vibration of his voice rather than heard it.

She swallowed. Was it wrong to seduce him? Was that even what she was doing?

“Why did you come to the dance, Hamish?” She would give him one more chance to be honest. Her body was screaming for him to give her the truth so she could act on her desires. If he couldn’t admit it, right out loud, he didn’t deserve her – no matter how badly she wanted to ignore that particular moral quandary.

He turned his face up to peer at her with one eye, his hand on her back sliding downward. “I don’t trust those boys around you. You’re too good for the likes of them.”

“I’m not interested in those boys. Or Doc Brown, for that matter.”

He sat up, but left his hand on the curve of her backside, the other skimming just a little further up her thigh. His eyes were searching hers. “Good.”

“There’s only one man in Lochdubh that I want.”

His fingers curled around her upper thigh and her breath hitched. For a moment, neither of them moved. Suddenly, she found herself pulled haphazardly off the arm of the couch and deposited into Hamish’s lap. She nearly laughed at the impulsive action but then his mouth had found hers and all other thoughts were forgotten.

He was gentler than she had expected, but exceedingly thorough, teasing at her with his tongue and withdrawing to coax her own forward. His hands roamed freely now, sliding over her dress to explore her curves in broad strokes. One hand came up to cradle the back of her head as he leaned her back against the arm of the couch. They both shifted their weight and she could feel him, hardening through the rumpled suit pants.

He kissed his way down her neck, nibbling at the tender skin there. She arched and moaned as he discovered spots she had not even known were sensitive. As one hand began to search for her zipper, she closed her own around it and pulled away reluctantly. “Hamish, wait.”

He took a shaky breath and swept his eyes over the length of their bodies. She shivered under his hungry gaze and the sight of his tongue as it ran briefly along his lower lip. “Too much?” He started to right himself, loosening his grip on her.

She bit her lip and smirked knowingly up at him. “No, I just thought that perhaps the sofa is not the… ideal setting.”

His lips crashed down on hers in a firm, lingering kiss that caught her off guard. “Always the responsible one, eh?” He murmured against her lips.

“Mmhm” She hummed, moving to place a kiss to the warm skin below his ear. She untangled herself from him and stood up. Slowly dragging down the side zipper of the dress, she watched his eyes following her every movement. “Y’know, I bet you miss your bed awfully much by now. And I did tell you I’m quite willing to share…”

“You’re very generous.”

“Only to those who deserve it.” She let the dress pool at her feet.

“Then I shall endeavor to be very, very deserving.” He was on his feet in a heartbeat, trousers tented and shirt half unbuttoned. He pulled her against him, lifting her effortlessly, and bore her to the bedroom. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here-in there be Smut :-)

Hamish deposited Belle on the bed and covered her small body with his own. She plucked at the half done buttons of his shirt as he disposed her of her bra. He eagerly studied the contour of each breast, reveling in the rosy peaks that tightened with his efforts. It was a bit of work to free him of his trousers and pants but well worth the effort.

Finally having Belle in his arms (under his lips, pressing firmly against his hot, hardened length) was like heaven on earth. Her little hands were everywhere, scratching her short nails down his back, clutching him closely against her, grabbing at his arse. He explored her with just as much abandon. She writhed and mewed under his ministrations, wet heat greeting his eager fingers as soon as they pushed aside the lace of her knickers. He removed the sodden undergarment swiftly, taking the time to trace the length of her inner thigh with his mouth and tongue. She grabbed at his hair, urging him gently upward and he smiled against one pliant thigh.

“Eager, love?” He chuckled.

She made a noise of frustration. “For months, now.” She admitted breathily.

He bit his lip to keep from coming apart at the sound of that husky admission. “Christ, Belle…”

“Please, Hamish?” It was barely a whimper and there was not a force on earth that could have kept him from curling his tongue up and into her dripping core. She groaned and shunted her hips, her legs spreading even further apart as he settled onto the bed to explore.

He teased her with his tongue for several minutes, sliding in and out, up and down, as his hips involuntarily ground into the mattress. When he slipped a finger easily into her and bent it just so, she nearly arched off the bed. With just a few strokes in rapid succession, she was shaking and making sounds that were barely words anymore. He felt her clench around his finger and focused on last week’s unfinished paperwork to keep himself from joining her.

“God, Hamish! How did….? No one’s ever….” She trailed off, her arm slung over her eyes as her breathing slowly evened out.

Smirking and flushed with his success, he crawled up the length of her body. Propping himself on one hand, he used the other to uncover her eyes. They were heavy lidded but still hungry. He licked his lips at the sight, tasting her on them with delight. “Am I earning my stay in your bed, Belle?” He teased, pressing his throbbing erection to her soaking nether lips. They both shuddered pleasantly at the contact.

She rolled her eyes back “Oh God, yes. I may never let you leave….” She reached a hand down to wrap it around his shaft and began to pump slowly, using her own wetness for lubrication.

He stopped her, quickly “If you do that, I may not get to much else and right now, if I can’t be inside you, I may go mad.” He balanced himself on both hands and leaned down to nip her ear. “Please, love?”

She bit her lip, the picture of a blushing maiden, but spread deliciously before him like a wanton goddess. The hand gripping him aligned him with her entrance. “I probably should have asked before… you’re clean, right? I’m on birth control so…”

Barely capable of words, he nodded emphatically. “Yes, tested a few years back and haven’t um… it’s… been a while since I’ve… Yeah.”

Relief washed over her as she wrapped her legs behind him and nudged him to slide home. They both groaned low and throaty sounds that were more music to Hamish’s ears than he could ever remember hearing. He pulled back and plunged into her again, relishing the way her hips moved up to meet his, automatically.

She was slick and tight from her previous orgasm and he would have to recite every by-law he’d ever learned to last long enough to bring her off again. But he was a determined man. His fingers found the nub above where they were joined, as his tongue had, earlier. He rubbed in rhythm with his thrusts, listening carefully to the language of her body and learning every angle that made her pant and dig in her nails.

He was seeing stars and colors when he felt her clench around him again, this time the intensity ripping a scream from her throat. Mollified that he had proven his worth as her lover, he allowed his body to take over, pounding somewhat erratically as he reached his own mind-numbing peak.

He was pretty sure her name had escaped his lips (as it had so many times before, in a cold lonely shower stall) at the crest. She covered his mouth with her own in a messy clashing of tongues and teeth. He tried not to collapse on top of her but she clung to him, keeping his body in place. The last thing he really wanted to do was withdraw, so he stayed inside her, even as he softened, feeling both of their racing hearts starting to come back down to a normal pace. He trailed lazy kisses along her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat and breathing in the scent of sex.

Finally, with a sigh, she nudged him to roll over. He lay on his back and curled his arm around her. She cuddled into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “Hamish?”

“Hmm?” His mind was verging on catatonic, clouded with hazy pleasure and contentment.

“You can sleep here tonight, if you want to.”

He cracked an eyelid and took in her impish smile. “Good to know.” He turned his head to kiss her brow and ran his hand possessively over her hip. “I’ll be sure to ask just as nicely tomorrow.”

There would be a mess to deal with later, he reckoned sleepily. What they were doing was still technically illegal, as he was her guardian. Then again, technical legality had (ironically?) never bothered him much. For now, he was the happiest he could remember being in years. Holding to both that thought and the woman he adored, Hamish drifted off to a peaceful slumber. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus "morning after" Smut!

They slept late, worn out from such a taxing night. Belle was expecting Hamish to need time to recover from a hangover, so she lay in bed quietly as she felt him stretch beside her. He rolled to his side, and nuzzled the crook of her neck.

“Good morning.”

She allowed herself a slow, lazy smile. “G’morning. I’m surprised to see you awake already.”

“Mm… I had good dreams.” He rolled his hips deliberately against her.

“What about, I wonder?” She teased, trailing her hand across his side and further down to caress the heated flesh that was pressing into her stomach. 

“I could show you.” The sleep was just barely leaving his eyes but his body was responding eagerly.

“I do love to learn….Oh!” Her breath left her as he flipped her onto her other side and fitted his body to her from behind. He snaked both arms around her, rolling one nipple between slender fingers, the other hand grasping at her hip to push her flush against him. He was so hard already and she could feel him grinding into her, a little moisture smearing onto her lower back from his excitement. “Hamish!” she exclaimed, arching into his touch and he responded with soft nibbles at the back of her neck.

The hand at her breast continued its clever attentions as the hand at her hip traced patterns over her stomach and inner thigh. He pushed her upper leg to bend enough to allow him access. Before she could form a coherent thought, he was stroking the wetness between her legs with two fingers. He circled her clit slowly, deftly, and she shuddered at the jolt of sheer pleasure.

She could feel her hips moving desperately against him, as though they had a mind of their own. She needed more contact and he was teasing, drawing it out to torture her. “Hamish, please!”

“So polite.” He murmured against her ear, sending a shiver over her whole body. She moaned as her nipples became impossibly hard. He removed the hand from her breasts to hold her firmly around the ribcage. “What do you need, Belle?”

She whimpered “You. Please I need… just…” Her skin had never felt so hot. He dipped into her core once more, curling against that spot he had discovered the night before. She bit back a swear word and wiggled against his hand. She needed…. She  _needed_ … words had never escaped her like this before. All she could do was beg for him to understand what her body was screaming for him to do. “Please?” It was almost a sob.

Hamish relented just as she thought she was on the verge of madness, stroking that spot until she was trembling before removing his hand and plunging deeply into her. She splintered apart almost instantly, with a cry that made her glad they had no next door neighbors.

She fell easily into his rhythm; pushing and arching to take him in as far as he could go. Garbled curse words and endearments fell from his lips as he drove into her again and again. He held her back against his chest and circled her slick nub with his free hand. All thoughts of the outside world disappeared as their bodies worked in tandem. She was building to another peak as his hips began a frenzied jerking and she knew he was close, too. The feel of him nearing a complete loss of control pushed her over the edge and she was lost in a blinding light of skin and breath and  _oh God yes good…!!_

Liquid warmth flooded from within as he clutched her so tightly she could barely breathe. He was panting her name in her ear and clinging to her and it was sticky and sweaty and perfect.

Neither of them wanted to move much, so they lay still in the afterglow. Hamish’s arm moved from around her ribcage and tucked under her neck, pillowing her head. The other arm moved so he could lightly fondle her breasts. It was almost too much, but so sweetly playful she didn’t have the heart to ask him to stop.

Despite all her best efforts to simply enjoy the moment, her mind began to race.  _What now?_  She had gotten what she, well, what they both obviously wanted. Was it just a case of satiating lust? Did Hamish understand that this still didn’t mean she intended to stay in Lochdubh? Would he even want her to?

She squeezed her eyes shut and forced her voice to sound cheerful. “I… uh, I could use some tea and toast. What do you think?”

He exhaled noisily “Aye, I suppose we’ve got to get up sometime, eh?”

She nodded. They needed to talk, so breakfast seemed like a good solution. If they stayed in bed, she doubted any talking would be accomplished.

He planted an open mouthed kiss on her shoulder and rolled away. She allowed herself the luxury of watching him walk, nude, to where he’d flung his trousers. He caught her admiring gaze and wiggled his eyebrows. “See something you like, then?”

She giggled softly and met his eyes squarely, pulling the sheets down to reveal herself to him. “Do you?” His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed. She crawled across the bed and extended a hand. He stepped forward and she was nearly eye level with his cock. So many fantasies she had concocted, writhing in his sheets with only her own hands for comfort, had started just like this. He was already starting to harden again and looked just as surprised at that as she was.

Tentatively, she leaned across the distance between them, balancing on her hands, and ran her tongue down the length of him. He gasped and tilted his hips toward her. Emboldened, she drew him into her mouth, delighted to feel him grow against her tongue. She suckled him a little harder and he grabbed at her hair, twining it between his fingers. She had only done this once or twice in her life, but she wanted fervently to know what would please him and make him lose control again. She felt her desire unfurling in her belly, sending waves rolling downward. Her tongue swept against the vein on the underside of his shaft and he tossed his head back with a groan.

Talking could wait, she decided. It was early still and there were so many other things they could be doing with their mouths. 


	7. Chapter 7

Belle spread jam liberally over a 3rd piece of toast, humming softly to herself. They had managed to work up quite an appetite before finally leaving the bed. She would go back to strip the sheets and throw them in the wash after breakfast (lunch, really, at this point). She looked up and caught Hamish’s eye. He was beaming and winked at her. Her stomach flipped involuntarily and in that moment, she wished the rest of the world could simply fade away. She smiled back.

 

They still needed to talk about this. Giving in to attraction was one thing, but she knew it was more than that. At least, for her, it was. She could never be entirely sure of Hamish’s feelings. He kept his cards so very close to his chest. In a way, she almost hoped her affection was greater than his own. It would make leaving in the fall so much simpler. It would make _life_ so much simpler if her heart was the only one she planned on breaking.

Hamish had always been kind to her, always mischievously playful. Now, it felt like a dam had broken and every endearment he had been holding back poured forth. He took every opportunity to caress her skin or hold her gaze until she blushed and looked away.

They had just barely made it to the breakfast table, mouths and hands still eager to seek out contact. Hamish had admitted to needing a little recovery time before round four, but he was perfectly happy to see to her pleasure in the meantime. Belle really had wanted to eat and start her day but she could hardly object to such a well-intentioned offer.

Even eating a perfectly normal meal felt like foreplay. His foot would seek hers under the table. Her fingers would glide over his as they passed the butter knife between them. She ached already to crawl back into the rumpled, messy sheets so they could spend the day wearing nothing but one another’s scent.

But Belle had schoolwork to get done. Hamish had to make at least some appearance in town or tongues would wag. Besides, there was very little left in the refrigerator that could be called food and one of them would have to remedy that.

“Shall I pop over to the shop, today? Or would you prefer to go?” She tried to concentrate on the practical here and now.

Hamish shrugged. “I’ve got a few rounds to make. I can stop in, if you like.” He licked his lips and gave her a devilish grin. “Is there anything you want? I do like giving you what you want…”

She smacked his shoulder playfully. “We need fruit.” His mouth opened and she cut him off, “And if you make a banana joke, I will hit you with your own baton.”

He snickered but said nothing.

She grabbed the list she had started and left on the counter, making a mental list of other necessities. He came up behind her, shaping her waist with his hands, and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“Want me to pick up a film for tonight? I thought I’d make dinner.”

Belle half turned and tucked the shopping list in his shirt pocket. “Mm, that sounds lovely. Something not _too_ violent or gory, ok?”

“What about explosions?”

“Careful or I’ll request a sappy romance.”

He shuddered. “I’ll ask the clerk for their wittiest comedy.”

“Smart man.” Belle kissed him approvingly.

It was rather charmingly domestic. That thought sent another pang through her heart as he waved cheerfully from the front door. This was not the life she was meant for. She was still too young and ambitious to stay in Lochdubh. Yet a part of her was already thinking ahead to how well she could settle into his life as a permanent fixture. It felt like running in two directions at once, and accomplished the exact same goal of standing perfectly still.  

She shrugged off the unwelcome contemplation. It was time to wash the bed sheets and start her work. There was time enough for personal crises without letting her grades suffer.

***

Esme had been kind enough to introduce Belle to the upper form teachers before she went to her first classes. There was a weekly teacher’s meeting at the lower form schoolhouse and Belle was in attendance her first week in town. Lochdubh was a small enough town that just getting one new student was worthy of some commotion. It was just one of many in a long, long string of new classrooms to Belle. She had not bothered to learn the school songs or names of the sports teams in years.

Lochdubh, however, was meant to be the last stop before she regained her freedom. She dug in her heels, plastered on her bravest smile and met her latest turn of fate. The teachers were all varying degrees of kind and stern. No one was unpleasant, but with Great Aunt Effie’s warnings, they were wary.

Each person she met looked at her with that same shrewd scrutiny until Belle felt like a caged animal and begged to step outside for a breath of fresh air.

In front of the schoolhouse, she gathered her thoughts. The scent of tobacco wafted through the air. The source was the slight silhouette of a man, ambling past.

“Excuse me, sir, would you have a spare cigarette on you?” She felt bold, just asking. It had been a long time since she smoked a cigarette, but anything would do to calm her nerves.

The shadowed man stopped and tilted his head before walking into the light. She vaguely recognized him as the Police Constable who had greeted her upon her arrival with Mrs. Norris.

“You’re a bit young, aren’t you, Missy?”

She could not tell if he was teasing, though there was a glint of humor in his dark eyes. She drew herself to her full height (which was, admittedly, still almost half a head shorter than he). “I’m old enough.”

He came closer and recognition dawned. “You’re Effie’s niece, aren’t ya?”

“I am.”

“She wouldn’t approve, you know.” He extended the cigarette he was smoking to her and she took it appreciatively. They both leaned back against the side of the building.

“I’ll deal with that later.” She took a long drag, satisfied when she did not cough. Something about this man made her want to impress him. He was good-looking enough, but she had never been a sucker for a pretty face. It was the air of confidence, with just a hint of cockiness, perhaps. All she knew in that moment was that he was the first person to know who she was and yet not treat her like a common criminal. Funny that, as he was considered the law in this town.

“What are you doing out by the school building bumming fags?” He took out a small case and removed another hand-rolled cigarette.

“Esme brought me to Teacher’s Night to introduce me ’round. It was very sweet of her, really...”

“But?” He prompted.

“What?” She feigned confusion.

“There was a ‘but’ in that sentence, if I ever heard one. Esme is very sweet, _but_ you’d rather be just about anywhere else, I’ll wager.”

“That obvious, huh.” It wasn’t really a question, but he gave a half shrug, anyway. She continued. “It’s not that they aren’t all very nice… it’s just that….” She sighed and turned to face him, “I know I’ve done some crazy things, but I really have learned from my mistakes. I haven’t broken a single law in over a year.”

“Congratulations.” He smirked.

She blushed. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I mean I’m not a petty crook just biding my time or something. I’m… I _was_ a confused kid who acted out. But I know better, now. All I want to do is finish school and get into a good university. Because Aunt Effie told everyone about my…” she grimaced but went on, “about my _jaded_ past, I feel like I wasn’t given a chance to really prove myself.”

He studied her for a long moment. Unlike the others, his penetrating gaze did not feel intrusive. It felt warm, like an embrace. “I believe you. I think the others will see it too, eventually. You’ve just got to put yourself out there.”

She nodded and licked her lips, “Do the brave thing.”

“Exactly. Miss…. French, was it?”

She extended her hand with a smile. “Belle.”

He took it and smiled back. “P.C. Macbeth.” He paused. “Hamish, that is.”

“Thank you, Hamish.”

“If Esme asks, I never gave you that cigarette.” He winked and took to the road.

With that, Belle found herself laughing out loud for the first time in weeks.

***

Hamish was elated. He no longer felt like a filthy pervert, wanking to thoughts of the teenage girl who shared his roof. She wanted him. She had welcomed him with open… well, everything really. The age difference was enough to still give him pause – he wasn’t stupid. Still, Belle was so different from other girls her own age.

He knew for certain that a girl like that wouldn’t have given him the time of day back in school. She was educated, street smart, and so irritatingly and wonderfully savvy.

And she was brave. She was so fucking brave. With everything she had been through, she was still able to find the strength to be herself and to care for others. He had rarely known anyone with a more compassionate disposition. Belle was one of the few girls in town that Esme had said she would trust to babysit once little Ian was old enough to leave at home. TV John would have loved her.

The sudden thought of TV John nearly stopped him in his tracks. It had been so many years now. He hadn’t even seen John’s ghost, recently. Until Belle, Hamish had not realized how genuinely empty the police station felt. There had been a few assistants sent over from Inverness, but they moved on after training for some time and he was always glad of it. One or two had taken to the idea of staying in town to give Hamish a run for his money. The patrons of the Stag’s Bar usually made short work of that sort before Hamish even got the chance.

He was lucky man, he recognized. Friends like his were once in a lifetime and rare, at that. Now he had the woman he had grown to adore, warm and waiting, in his bed. It felt like a blessing, which is exactly why he couldn’t trust it. He had lived long enough to know that every joy in life was short lived. He’d striven to always live in the moment, never thinking too far ahead. He had his town and his dog and once, he’d had Alex. Then Isobel.

He shook his head to clear that self-pitying train of thought. Belle was his, right now. That was what mattered most. Patience or Providence had rewarded him once more with his most fervent desire. He wasn’t going to waste a perfectly beautiful Saturday on worrying.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend of mine is reading this and I forgot I had a chapter or two I'd never uploaded. So, yay! new chapter! More smut! Enjoy!

His interest in Belle had been entirely neighborly, in the beginning. At least that is what he repeatedly told himself as he stopped her on the way to the library or dropped her off in town when he saw her on the road. Besides their time in his car and the afternoon teas they sometimes took, they were never alone together. So, his growing fondness had seemed entirely harmless.

There were a few glances that left them both feeling flushed, a hug or two that may have lingered past the point of decency. Yet, Hamish could not say either of their behavior was inappropriate until she had come to live with him at the station.

He and Isobel had gotten a place of their own when they were expecting, but once she left, it hardly seemed worth maintaining. He had taken up residence at the police station, once more and it seemed only natural that he would remain there for the rest of his days. Jock was getting on in years but still a cheerful and affectionate companion. If all he had was his work, his books, and his wee dog… it was not a bad life, at that.

Then there was Belle. Bloody Belle with her eyes that drowned him in dazzling oblivion and her smile that made him believe in angels. He’d had no objection to her staying for a short time. He was certain other arrangements could be made, in time. Yet that time never seemed quite right. It had been a touchy thing for the first few weeks, walking that thin line between friendship and burgeoning desire.

The first real surprise had been her invitation to join her in the bed. It was completely guileless and made in earnest. He had to keep from choking on his own tongue and he was quite sure he almost fell over. He hoped she didn’t notice. When he could manage a polite decline, she seemed disappointed, but was obviously trying to hide it. For just that second that her bottom lip protruded in the beginning of a pout, it took him every ounce of self-control not to grasp in between his teeth.

That was how the dreams started.

To be sure, he had acknowledged that Belle was attractive and highly intelligent. He had admired her, from afar, like art in a museum. She was polished and perfect and untouchably displayed. That little quirk of her mouth – the slightest indication that she might have wanted to share a bed with him – was all it took.

Suddenly, every time she giggled or sighed, he imagined himself tasting that giggle from her lips, causing that sigh to deepen with a twist of his fingers. He awoke painfully hard from dreams of her mouth, or even (shamefully) sticky like the untested boy he had not been in years.

He asked around town for a spare room in which to place her, but there had been a slight population boom in recent years and many families were already a bit over crowded.

Cold showers had done little to help in the past, but he knew very few other remedies. A little too often, he indulged himself by turning the temperature up and taking himself in hand, imagining Belle’s slender body aligned with his.

Once, in his rush to tend to… pressing matters, he had not locked the door properly or bothered to turn on the shower. It was very early and the sun had barely risen, so he thought little of it. Then the handle turned. At the sound of the door hinge, he froze. The glass of the shower door was frosted but not opaque. There was nowhere to hide. A very sleepy Belle stumbled in, clad in only an oversized shirt that may once have been his.

She flipped the light switch and promptly screeched.

“Belle! Belle! It’s alright! It’s just me. It’s Hamish.” He tried desperately to cover himself with both hands.

She fell back against the bathroom door with a thud and covered her mouth. “Oh. Oh!” She placed a hand over her eyes. “The door was unlocked and you’re not usually up this early so, I… Oh… I um… sorry.”

He could not have said which of them was a brighter shade of pink. _At least his erection was flagging with all the blood rushing to his face._ “I… couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get an early start. Would you mind very much turning around?”

She released a strangled laugh and obeyed. “With the state you’re in, that could sound highly inappropriate, Constable.”

“Belle!” He tried to sound scandalized as visions of bending her over the sink made the blood rush back south with a vigor. “Please, don’t…”

“Oh calm down. You shocked me because I wasn’t expecting to see you. It’s not like I haven’t seen a naked man before, Hamish. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mrs. Norris about it.”

 _“Don’t tell Mrs. Norris”_ had become a running joke between them, as Hamish had a bad habit of treating Belle more like a drinking buddy than a ward. The jest was obviously intended to put him at ease. Unfortunately, her proximity in just a T-shirt (that he was now quite certain had once been his) was having quite the opposite effect. He yanked the nearest towel and wrapped it around his hips. He tried desperately to disguise his stubborn anatomy, but it was glaringly obvious. “Belle, if you please. I’m just about finished here.

“Oh, ok then. I’ll just head back to the room until you’re all done.” He watched her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug as she edged out of the door.

“Fuck’s sake.” He couldn’t bite back a whispered swear once her footsteps had retreated. Nearly caught fisting his own cock by the object of his illicit lust… Smooth.

Hamish proceeded to take the coldest, fastest shower he had ever taken.

***  
  
Hamish had gotten distracted at the video store and ended up bringing home both a Western and something else he assured her the clerk told him had earned great critical acclaim last year. Belle was relatively certain he had simply picked up the first thing he saw under the Comedy section, and his heart was obviously set on the Western.

It didn’t matter much in the long run. Before the main hero had even been introduced, Belle was already straddling his lap, as he trailed kisses over her breasts. He teased each nipple, nibbling gently as her hips ground against him. She honestly could not remember at what point her shirt and bra had ended up on the floor.

He gripped her hips and laved his tongue on the delicate underside of each breast before nuzzling between them. She scratched at his scalp and pulled lightly at the ends of his hair, enjoying his growls of appreciation.

Practically from the moment they began kissing, he had been hard. With her on his lap, the friction was delicious for both of them. He tilted his head back up to gain access to her mouth and she happily granted it. She eased his lips open once more and flicked her tongue against his, daring him to chase her. He obligingly snaked a hand up under her hair to take charge of the kiss.

She unbuttoned his shirt as quickly as her stumbling fingers would allow, needing to feel his skin against hers. He shucked it soon after and wrapped his newly-bared arms tightly around her waist. Her sensitive nipples pressed against the warm plane of his chest and she gasped at the contact.

She wriggled a hand between them to unbuckle his belt and slide his zipper down. She moaned as she felt him throb at her touch. He left off her mouth to kiss and bite at her neck, sending pleasant shivers down her spine that tingled in her core.

He stroked her through her knickers, already nearly soaked through with her arousal. She whimpered and pushed down against his hand.

“Belle.” His breath was hot in her ear. “Bed?”

She shook her head, her face flushed but determined. “Don’t feel like moving. Besides you might miss the film.” She arched an eyebrow at him and he laughed before pulling her into a firm kiss.

She encouraged him lift his hips, so they could roll down his trousers. With him bare before her, she tilted back to admire her handiwork. She thought to take him in her mouth again, but he seemed to have other ideas. He kneaded her buttocks in his large hands, and pulled her knickers to one side.

He met her eyes squarely, a question on his face. She nodded her assent eagerly and he thrust home. Both of their heads lolled back and they groaned at the sheer perfection of joining. Hamish leaned back against the sofa and Belle arched her back. Experimenting with this new position, Belle leveraged herself up by holding onto his shoulders and plunged back down his entire length.

“Oh, yes!” the exclamation passed her lips before she was even aware of it. Hamish made a sound that echoed that sentiment, but it could not have been identified as words.

He was buried to the hilt. At first, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to move. Then the need built up again and she was rocking against him, rolling her hips to feel every inch.

“God, Belle!” His eyes went wide and then screwed shut when she swiveled in a particular direction. She did it again and his grip on her tightened. He began to drive up into her and it was her own turn to lose control.

He was hitting that spot she already adored and started rubbing at her clit with one hand. She slumped forward as instinct took over and her hips moved of their own accord. They were both babbling nonsense when her world split apart and she felt him explode within her fluttering walls.

She pulled one leg over both of his, leaning her side into him and resting her heavy head against his shoulder. He cradled her with his body.

An actor on the screen shot at another actor and an actress screamed, running to the side of the fallen actor.

Belle’s voice was thick with sleep “I haven’t the slightest idea why that man just shot that other man.”

Hamish stroked her exposed side and chuckled. “I’d be insulted if you did.”

She giggled and kissed his neck. “I suppose we’ll just have to watch it again, sometime.”

“If this is how you watch movies, I will rent them every night.” He vowed with mock solemnity.

“We may never get around to the watching part….”

“It will be worth the late fees.”

“Hamish?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Aye?”

“Take me to bed?”

He gave a broad smile. "Aye."

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Shortly after Belle had moved in, and sometime after realizing his shameful attraction to her, Hamish had stumbled into the kitchen to fix himself a nightcap and been surprised to find Belle still awake. She was perched on the countertop, legs swinging gently. The kettle was on. She was startled by his sudden appearance in the doorway but smiled brightly.

“Evening Hamish.”

“You’re up late aren’t you?”

She shrugged. “Trouble sleeping. Thought I’d make some herbal tea. Would you like some?”

His eyes flicked to the liquor cabinet, just past her head. “Um, yeah. Tea would be lovely.” There was an awkward silence. With the flurry of activity around Effie’s arrest and Belle’s relocation, they had spent very little time alone with one another. “Mind if I reach past you?” He gestured to the bottles above where she sat.

She shook her head.

He crossed the room, closing the space between them and lifting an arm to the cabinet to withdraw a bottle. His hip brushed her thigh and her eyes widened slightly but she said nothing. She smelled fucking fantastic and he tried to remember the name of the body wash she had left in his shower. Something to do with vanilla and roses. He tried very hard not to picture her in the shower, running her hands over her soapy body, rolling her shoulders into the warmth of the water. He turned to face the countertop, feeling himself lengthen and thicken at the very idea. This was a dangerous game he was playing and he bloody well knew it. He turned his attention to the bottle.

“Fancy a hot toddy?” He gestured with the bottle.

Belle nodded, her tongue slipping out to moisten her lips and he bit back a sound of desperation. She may not have been as innocent as she looked, but there was no way she knew exactly what she did to him. His gut twisted. She’d likely be repulsed if she did know. He was charged with looking after her not leering and he should be ashamed. It must have been his imagination that had her leaning in closer, her eyes focusing in on his mouth. His hand twitched with the urge to run up the length of her thigh, wishing to find her heated and damp against his questing fingers.

The whistling of the kettle made them both jump and the moment was broken.

Pink faced, Belle slid from the counter to retrieve it. She filled two steaming mugs. “Sugar or honey?”

“Neither, thanks. I’m sweet enough.” He poured a generous amount of the liquor into his own cup and significantly less into hers.

She tilted her head to the side with a wry grin. “I’m not a baby, you know. I can drink more than that.”

He made a non-committal noise. “You shouldn’t. It will stunt your growth.”

A roll of the eyes as she grabbed the bottle from his hand, none too gently. “I’m rather certain I’ve done growing, by now.” She tipped another finger’s worth into the cup and added honey.

“Well, let it never be said I didn’t try to stop you.”

“Mm, but I make my own decisions, P.C. Macbeth.” She raised her mug. “What shall we drink to?”

“Things we’re never telling Mrs. Norris?” He suggested archly.

She giggled. “I’ll certainly drink to that!”

They moved to the table, mugs in hand and sipped steadily. The hot liquid burned all the way down, more from the bite of the whiskey than the heat, itself. He enjoyed the warmth pooling in his stomach, his limbs growing heavy and lazy. Belle sank back in her chair, her half-lidded eyes unreadable in the dim kitchen light.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He murmured, admiring the way the top of her nightgown dipped just a little lower as she relaxed.

She leaned forward, propping her chin on one hand, the other resting on the table between them. “I was thinking about school, actually. Silly, I know.”

He laid a hand casually atop hers.  “Not silly. Practical. You’re a very practical girl.” He wasn’t slurring but he could feel the filters dropping. He reminded himself vigorously not to say anything he might regret later.

She exhaled heavily. “I know. I’m trying to be. Trying to… atone for the foolishness of my past. Be a good girl. It’s not nearly as fun, you know.” She smirked at him.

He returned her mischievous look easily. “I know. I haven’t always been a saint, myself.”

Her eyes lit up “Ooh, do tell, Constable!”

He shook his head “Ohh no you don’t. I’ll not be giving you blackmail material on me, my fine young miss.”

She gave an exaggerated pout. “Fair’s fair, Hamish. You know all my dirty little secrets from my file. Why can’t I know a few of yours?”

His mouth twisted. This conversation was headed in a precarious direction. Belle was asking an uncomfortably loaded question, whether she realized that or not. He fought the urge to tell her that she was very likely his dirtiest secret of all. He imagined the shock and disgust on her face and felt his ears grow hot. His mind raced, searching for an innocuous moment from his past that would be roguish enough to settle her curiosity. The silence stretched between them and Belle shifted her weight impatiently.

Her gaze shifted to the table and she slowly withdrew her hand from under his. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, of course.” Her voice was low and deliberately neutral. “If I’m pushing you too much, I mean…” She stood slowly, grabbing her mug. “I should go to bed, anyway. School tomorrow. G’night, Hamish.” She turned to leave.

He opened his mouth to call her back but no sound came out at first. Eventually, he breathed “Good night, Belle” into the empty kitchen. He dropped his face into both hands. “Bugger all.”

 ***

They had been sleeping together for a couple of weeks and Belle had yet to bring up any of her inevitable questions. Every time the air between them turned even remotely serious, Hamish would make a joke or kiss her silly. His kisses left her breathless and wanting and it was all she could do to keep up. They didn’t always make it to the bedroom.

In fact, she would be hard pressed to find a surface in the station they had not christened. She blushed to think of it now, the cold flat plane of his desk or the braided rug in the living room that had left red marks on her knees.

She should have been disappointed in herself for giving in so easily. She should have stood her ground instead of allowing Hamish to sweep her feet out from under her. Yet there wasn’t a moment in his arms she could even begin to regret. After months of longing looks, her skin burning with the desire for his touch, this just felt too right. Hamish, for all his clever turns of phrase, was not a man of words when it came to affection. He showed his fondness in little touches and gestures, bringing her breakfast in bed when he woke up first, gentle kisses to her brow before they drifted off at night.

She had never met a man who was so delicate with her but could take her so forcefully in exactly the way she needed him. They did talk, of course. Trivial pillow talk, mostly. He had admitted his repressed desire for her and the time she nearly caught him wanking in the shower (as she had always suspected). They joked about how they could conduct their affair under the nose of the town, stealing kisses around every dark corner. In reality, they never even touched in public, so as not to arouse suspicion. There was enough gossip about the young Constable taking in a teenage girl, as it was.

Except for the level of physical intimacy, very little had changed about their daily interactions. They took turns making meals, shared light conversation over the table, and Hamish read or did paperwork as Belle completed her schoolwork. Graduation loomed over her head, shifting from the light at the end of the tunnel to a stormy, cloudy question mark. She honestly couldn’t tell if Hamish was plagued by these same concerns or if he really felt as light hearted as he seemed.

Belle needed to take a stand. _Time waits for no woman_ , she reminded herself one night, after dinner.

“Hamish?”

“Hm?” He looked up from his spoonful of rocky road.

“I was thinking… I um, I should start saving some money to get a dress for graduation. It would be nice to wear something new, you know?” It was a clumsy attempt at breaching the subject, but it would have to do.

He grinned. “Is this your subtle way of asking me to take you to the shops, sweetheart?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No. First, I’m not that subtle. Second, I want to do this for myself. I’ve bought my own clothes most of my life, it would just be nice if they weren’t second-hand.” She took a bite of ice cream and contemplated her spoon. “And third… I’m a bit insulted you think I’d ask that of you.”

He shifted his chair closer to her side of the table and stroked her upper arm, “I was only joking. I know you prefer to take care of yourself.” His tone was apologetic and she flushed with warmth at his touch.

“I’d hope you of all people could remember that.” She murmured, feeling her body already reacting to their proximity. _Not again, Belle!_

“Aye.” He leaned forward to nuzzle her neck. “But I wouldnae mind a bit if you let me take care of you once in a while.”

“Hamish… “ she breathed, closing her eyes. “We need to talk about my graduation.”

“It’s still months away. But I’ll take you to the shops anytime you like.” He kissed her shoulder, trailing his lips up to her earlobe. It sent pleasant tingles down her spine and she involuntarily titled her head to give him better access.

“That is not – oh! – not what I mean. It’s not just about my dress…”

“Twist my arm. I’ll take you shopping for shoes, as well.” He bit her earlobe, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive nerve endings there. She shivered and bit back a moan. _Damn him!_

“I do believe you are trying to distract me…”

“Is it working?” The words vibrated against her skin and she clutched the table.

She made a stifled sound of assent and then Hamish’s hands and mouth were everywhere at once, ice cream now fully abandoned for a much sweeter pursuit.

He pulled her to her feet and fitted his hands to her waist. With some maneuvering, she was situated on the edge of the countertop by the sink. She linked her ankles around the backs of his thighs, pulling his hard length to her eager center. His mouth found hers again and he nibbled at her bottom lip. She could taste the chocolate and marshmallow as she explored him. One hand held her to him by the small of her back. The other was at her breasts, alternately cupping and flicking across her taut nipples through her silky night shirt.

In the back of her mind, she thought of pulling away and admonishing him for trying to escape a fragile subject with seduction. Her more immediate concern, however, was pulsing between her legs and she was already ready to devour him whole. _How had they denied themselves for so long?_

The hand on her breasts moved away and snaked between them. She heard the zipper on his trousers and glanced down to see him taking himself in hand. Her mouth watered, remembering his salty skin as it slid between her lips. She began to bend forward, but he gave a slight shake of his head and, with a wicked grin, sunk to his knees. He kissed each of her knees, pulling them closer together just long enough to ease down her knickers. Her legs fell naturally apart once more as she leaned back, propping herself on her hands. He inhaled deeply at the sight of her and licked his lips. She trembled under the weight of his yearning gaze.

“Do you remember the night we had hot toddies together?” He asked

“Mmhm, I think so.” She panted. “Why?”

“You were sitting right here.” He pressed his lips, almost reverently to the inside of her thigh, his long fingers teasing upwards, stroking the soft skin there. “And all I could think of…”

She felt a light graze of his teeth as he moved upwards, still not quite reaching the area that screamed and throbbed for his touch.

“Hamish…” She rolled her hips impatiently toward him, bunching the short nightdress even further up.

He chuckled. “All I wanted to do was bury my face between your legs until you begged me never to stop.”

The first swipe of his tongue made her eyes roll back. Grasping her thighs, he delved his tongue into her and circled her clit. A moan escaped them both. He knew exactly what she liked best by now. It simply wasn’t fair. Not that she was complaining.

It was not long before her legs were shaking and her back arching. He stood in time to swallow her howl of completion, his clever fingers drawing out her pleasure. She tasted herself as she suckled at his lips and felt him pushing bluntly against her entrance. Her legs twitched in anticipation and she shifted her hips up so he could fill her completely.

And fill her, he did. With a groan of relief, he slid home, her calves instantly wrapping around his backside. He pulled back, slipping almost all the way out to plunge forward again. Her body rocked with the force of his thrust and she grasped one of his shoulders for leverage. He repeated the motion, with her hips angled just so, and Belle saw stars. From the noises escaping her, he took his cue to keep hitting that spot until she was clinging to him for dear life, babbling a mixture of curses and pleas.

So consumed by the intensity of her orgasm, Belle almost didn’t notice when Hamish reached his own. Sticky and temporarily sated, she collapsed against him. He brought her hand from his shoulder to his lips and brushed a kiss across each fingertip.

“You asked me about my secrets were. Do you remember?” His voice was hoarse, throaty.

She nodded against his shoulder. “Yes.”

“It was you, Belle. How I… felt about you. That was… that was what I couldn’t tell you.”

Belle swallowed hard, her heart suddenly pounding in a way that had little to do with their previous exertions. “You… you can tell me now…”

She felt him smile against her hair. “I thought I just showed you.”

Belle’s stomach sunk. He still wouldn’t say the words. She screwed her eyes up tightly. She wasn’t sure why it even surprised her. She suddenly felt the need to put some distance between them. She gently pried her hand from his and slid from the countertop. “Well, I’ve got some work to do before bed. So, I’ll just hop in the shower and go do… that.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. I’ll just see you in bed.” He sounded a little hurt at her withdrawal. A part of her hoped he was and she immediately admonished herself for being petty.

“Yeah. Good night, Hamish.”

Once more, Hamish was alone in the kitchen, staring in Belle’s wake, wondering what he had done wrong.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
